1st Annual Hunger Games
by elijahbw1
Summary: It's the 1st Annual Hunger Games and a seventeen year old from District Seven named Rusty Hopkinson has been reaped. His fight will not be easy, and his struggle is inevitable. And death is almost inescapable. Will Rusty survive? Only one can win.
1. Chapter 1: The Reaping

...This is a moment that you never forget. The moment when a tribute becomes a victor.

\- Caesar Flickerman

Part One: The Capitol

Chapter One: The Reaping

The morning light was dim, reflecting the mood of our hearts. The rebellion had been crushed and the Treaty of Treason had been signed. There was nothing we could do about it. In the morning sun, I could just barely make out the city square where I would have to be in a few hours. Because of our uprising, a pageant created by the Capitol was born.

"The pageant is supposed to be a sign of our submission to the Capitol."

Dad says during our morning walk. I stare at the ground and keep walking.

"What? You just want to pout, or something? You know, this is the easy way out. Sure, we could've kept fighting, but for what? For more of our men, women and children to die? To lose loved ones for a cause that would never be fulfilled?"

I try to keep my mouth shut. Dad hates back talk. But I can't resist. "

You're only thinking that because you're not in the Reaping." I pause to scan his expression. Blank. "If you were in it, you'd understand my anxiety."

I expect a blow, or a sneer, but all I get is an honest response.

"Probably. But I'm not in the Reaping, so I'm not blinded by fear." he retorts intelligently.

I think about this. What would change about my point of view if I wasn't participating? Would I think of this as an opportunity rather than an unjust bloodthirsty act of hate for the districts? I turn my attention back to the conversation.

"I'm not scared, just aware of the possibility that I could be…"

"It's not going to happen." he says calmly.

"But if it does, then…"

"Hey. it's not going to happen. Remember what your mother always said?" he smiles.

I respond with a nod.

"Good." he says.

"Now, son, after the Reaping, we're going to get drinks."

I step back.

"Dad, I'm seventeen, I'm not old enough to drink."

"And I don't care son. You deserve one. I'll see you after."

He laughs aloud, his bellowing voice echoing through our empty house.

"Okay, Dad, see you then." I say.

After this, I get changed and head for my friend's house. Bo is a bigger, stouter kind of guy with slick long hair and a constant frown on his face. We hang out a lot, but were never sure why. We don't even really like each other very much. The door creaks open and Bo steps out.

"Morning, Rusty." He says with a nod.

We exchange small talk and the Reaping. "Apparently the winner gets riches beyond belief. Seems to be the only good thing that comes from it." He says in a serious tone. I shoot him a look of fury.

"One wins, twenty three are murdered, Bo. There's only a four percent chance of winning." I stare at him. "Also, it's probably a scam. We probably won't see a dime of that money."

"I don't know, the Capitol seems really excited about this Hunger Games thing." He shrugs his shoulders.

"And the Capitol is so ridiculous, so when they're serious about something, they mean it." I add. We laugh, and that's when we reach the Square.

A makeshift entrance has been crafted, and we start for it. A woman dressed in all white stands at the entrance with a computer. "Name?" She asks. "Uh, what?" I stammer, confused on what she wants.

"I need your name for registration." She says pleasantly.

"Oh, uh, Rusty Hopkinson."I say.

"You may enter, please stand in the seventeen year old pen."

I nod, and go to my area. Bo is eighteen, so he only has one Reaping to suffer through. I, am seventeen, so I have two. After another half an hour or so, the festivities of the Reaping begin. A woman with long, purple hair and a silver sequin dress comes onto the stage.

"Welcome, to the first annual Hunger Games, everyone. I am your escort, Azelia Mayword." She continues, but I drown out her useless information until the selection begins.

"Now, as you have been informed, this is the selection activity. Let us begin with choosing our female. Anyone can volunteer to take this person's place if you are of the eligible age and the same sex. So, without further ado, the female tribute from District Seven is…"

We all hold a collective breath as she chooses the slip which will someone's death sentence, likely.

"Amber Collin."

The seventeen year old girl walks to the front, needing no help. She stands with anxiety, but tries not not to show it.

"Now for the boys." She says. She steps over to the boys bowl. I will six slips in the bowl among thousands. My odd of being chosen are incredibly slim. I hope it isn't me, please don't be me, it's going to be me, I just know it.

"The male tribute from District Seven is Rusty Hopkinson."


	2. Chapter 2: The Train

Chapter 2

The Train

I remember a time when I was a small child. I was hanging out with my cousins, before the war began. We had been at a creek, playing with sticks, pretending that they were swords. One time, I fell into the water. The creek water was rushing by, and swept me into the middle part of the creek. I was drowning, feeling the pain burn away at my lungs. This is the way I feel now.

I can't move. I'm paralyzed, scared straight. I am going to die in a matter of days. I am going to die! The kids around me split, giving me a path to the stage. The woman beckons to me, as if I am a five year old little boy. But to be honest, that's probably what I look like. I walk to the front, feeling thousands of eyes training on me all the way to the front. I reach the stage, and step up the stairs. She shakes my hand with a pleasant smile.

"Well, let's give the tributes for the First Hunger Games a hand, everyone!"

The crowd claps, but more out of fear of the peacekeepers than anything else.

The lady flashes one more smile to the crowd before she takes us inside the newly built Justice Building. It's huge, with chandeliers and the most beautiful furniture that I've seen before, not on the television. The room is bright, with large windows giving the room a bright, happy feeling, the opposite of what is actually going on. Azelia walks ahead of swiftly, and spins around to look at us.

"Tributes, your rooms are upstairs. That's where you will see your families and say goodbye to them, at least, one of you will be saying goodbye forever, if not both of you, so make it good."

I nod, and follow the girl up the stairs.

I wait anxiously for someone to show up, feeling more alone than I have in my entire life before this. Minutes later, my father comes in.

"I guess you won't get to have that drink." He says with a sad laugh.

I muster a weak smile. "Dad, how could this happen? I was one in thousands. Thousands of slips."

He looks at the ground.

"Bad things happen to good people son. Think of your mother."

I tear up.

"Dad, we don't have much time. Please, promise to take care of yourself when I'm gone. Don't become that drunk again. I won't be there to help you back into the house late at night to save you from the peacekeepers. They'll kill you."

He stares at me.

"If you die, what reason will I have to live?"

That's when the peacekeepers come in.

"Dad, promise me! Promise you won't do that! Take it as my last request." I shout.

I never hear his response.

A few minutes after that, Bo enters the room.

"Congratulations, bud, you're in the most celebrated event of Panem."

I smirk.

"Yep, the show where my death will be televised and spurred on like a global holiday."

Bo laughs.

"I'll be watching. Anyways, you do know how to fight, correct?" I nod. "Good. There will have to be weapons for an entertaining fight. Learn How to use weapons. Show that you're strong. Make yourself look good. Remember, this is reality television, they just want a good show, that's all."

I look up at him.

"You know, I'm going to die in a few days, right?"

He looks right back at me.

"No, you're not. You're stronger than the rest. You can win."

Then the peacekeepers come in.

"Watch my dad, don't let him die!"

"I won't."

After this, I sit, waiting to be collected onto the train. When Azelia comes, she once again beckons to me. I notice that it turns me away. I hate her. She is taking me to the Capitol, no one else. I just want to pin her up against a wall and scare her enough to let me go… but there would be peacekeepers, and then I would be publicly executed. At least this way I have a remote chance of survival.

I follow Azelia to the back porch of the Justice building, where a car sits. I have only seen eleven cars in my life, and never a civilian car such as this. It is red, boxy, and low to the ground with a sparkling grill.

"Well, what are you waiting for, get in?" Azelia says.

"Huh? Oh, right."

I flush, noticing that Amber and Azelia are already in the car.

I get in, seeing the fine white leather, and I nearly swoon when I see the polished wood decor on the doors.

"Uh, you two act like you've never seen a car before."

"We haven't seen a car before." We both chime in.

She looks at us with pity in her eyes.

"Oh, you poor children, how hard your lives must be to live without cars. Well, at least you're a celebrity now! You can ride in cars all you want over the next week." "Until we go die, right?" Amber asks with a smart expression.

Azelia grunts.

"Now, there's no reason for hard feelings, my dear. You're going to love the Capitol."

Once we arrive at the train station, Azelia gets out of the car, and tells us to follow her. As we approach the steps, I get my first glance into the train. It's more than I could have ever imagined. With mahogany tables and lush blue carpets, and a light fixture made out of crystals.

"That, my dear, is called a chandelier." Azelia says.

A chandelier. Just one crystal off of this would keep a family of four in food for a year. And there are dozens of crystals on it, and more precious metals and stones around the room. This is the best experience that I could have possibly hoped for.

Azelia shows us our quarters, which are as big as my house in Seven. I sit amazed by the lush carpets and furniture, the glossy polished woodwork. Around five o'clock I head to the dining car where I find Amber already waiting. I know I'm not late, though, because Azelia isn't there yet.

I take a seat, and try to begin a conversation, since we will be working together in the games, most likely. I find it hard to start one, though, since it's relatively pointless. "Hey, we're both probably going to be dead in a few days, so let's die together." I suppress a smile when the words are made into a sentence in my head.

"What? What are you smiling about?" Amber asks.

Her face is is tear streaked and her eyes are red. She's been crying, and by how fresh the streaks are, I can tell that she didn't stop crying after the goodbyes to her family. I look at her, with a blank stare and reply with a snarl.

"Just because you're a sniveling snob, it doesn't have to make me one."

She bursts into tears, and runs out of the room, and into the next car.

I sit alone for some time, until I decide to look at my room. I pass through the first train car, through the living room, and then into the watch room. I find the living quarters. I try the first door, but it's locked. I assume the other room is mine, and the door slides out of sight, leaving the door open and my jaw hanging loosely from my head.

I enter my room looking throughout the gorgeous space, and then enter the bathroom, gawking at the crystals encrusting it. I take a peak at my new wardrobe, and gasp in awe of the sheer amount of soft clothing and shiny shoes and belts. I change into a blue t - shirt and gray sweatpants. Simple, but comfortable. Azelia knocks on my door before long, and I open the door. She's on my back before I can say a word of greeting.

"Let's go! You're going to miss the recap!"

"Gee, I'd hate to miss that."

She sighs, and leads the way back to the television room.

I watch with intense focus, but Amber doesn't even show up.

"Can you believe that girl. Won't even come out to save her life. Literally!" She remarks.

I roll my eyes, and then advert my attention back to the screen. The screen flicks on and a man by the name of Fabian introduces himself as the host of the Hunger Games. He's got frighteningly orange hair and lips. It's almost sickening, but Azelia squeals in delight.

They start with District One, where the girl and boy have strikingly blonde hair, but don't look like incredible fighters. District Two is bigger, especially the boy. He looks like a fighter, and he's also just massive. He doesn't look smart, but the girl does. District Three doesn't stick out, District Four looks like good all around tributes. District Five looks mean, and also like serious contenders. District Six gives two sick looking tributes, who really don't look like they haven't eaten in weeks. Then it's Seven. Amber is called, and barely holds back tears. I'm called. I look shocked, but well fed. I'm definitely not at the bottom of the tribute barrel.

Then it moves on to District Eight, with a small boy who keeps fidgeting and a girl who's already crying. District Nine has two average looking tributes, until the girl doesn't shake the boy's hand. When the peacekeepers get involved, it is revealed that she has no right hand. District Ten is strong looking, but not like you wold think. Not like District Two, where their muscles are popping out of their shirts, but like a bulky strong. They'll do well, I think.

District Eleven doesn't bring much to the table with a thirteen and fourteen year old, so I blank them out of my head. District Twelve has a strong looking boy, with a scruffy beard, and a fifteen year old girl, who looks as if she's starving. Azelia gasps, shocked that he wasn't clean shaven.

A few exchanging comments between Fabian and a man named Augustus, and the episode shuts off. At dinner, I'm served a luxurious dinner of beef stew and asparagus. Azelia stands up, and rushes me to my room. I feel like she is forcing me into my room, but the Capitol has all the power. Maybe this pig is supposed to be my overseer.

As my door slides open, I see Amber out of the corner of my eye.

"Hey, you missed dinner."

She nods and brushes past me towards the dining car. I feel angry, that she wouldn't speak to me, but I also can empathize. After a few hours of restlessness, I flick on the television in my room. On some stations, there are people with green tinted skin making bad jokes, and people laughing hysterically in the background. On others there are commercials for baby dolls that cry and create fake messes.

Disgusting.

Then, about a half an hour later, after I've already turned the television back off, it flashes back on. Mandatory viewing. A gallows has been set up in District Ten, and a group of people are having their sentences read to them. Inciting a rebellion. There are bags over their heads, so that their faces can not be seen. Still, if I could, I'm guessing they'd be at peace. District Ten specialized in guerrilla warfare, and some say that they still haven't given up the fight.A few moments later, the platforms give out from underneath them.

I turn away, and stop watching the horror that I have been witnessing in District 10. When the television turns back off, I know I won't be able to sleep. I toss and turn, because I know I'll just be turned around when I walk out the door. One of the train guards will keep me here until morning. I ask myself why this is the case. I conclude that it would be an inconvenience if a tribute walked off of the train and killed themselves. Seems to be the only logical reason to keep us under twenty our hour supervision. At some point during the night I drift off into a dreamless sleep. I wake up, and know that my door will no longer be locked. My assumption was correct. I walk into the dining car, and wait for breakfast. After about a half an hour, Amber stumbles into the dining car, with her pajamas still on. Azelia walks into the dining car soon after Amber, and we order our breakfast.

I get breakfast ham, poached eggs, and toast. Warmth from the bread sends shudders through me, as I have never had bread as well made as this. I think of Bo, and my father, and how they'll never have bread as nice as this. I miss my friend, and I miss my father.

After breakfast, Azelia leaps out of her chair to explain what the schedule of the day is. We will arrive in the Capitol later this morning, where we will be introduced to our stylists. They'll make us look desirable for the crowds. Then, it's off to something called the tribute parade. Azelia sounds bubbly throughout the entire one sided conversation, and we stare at her in resentment, knowing itis the beginning of our demise, once we reach the Capitol.

After dressing myself, I lay on my bed for a brief moment, until, Azelia squeals in delight.

"We're here, my precious children! We're here!"

I walk out off my room, and to the exit car. Azelia positions us directly in front of the door. The door slides open, and we sport our smiles. There are flashes of frighteningly bright lights, and we are knocked back by the yelling and screaming of the people with the flashing devices. Azelia giggles, and pushes through the crowd.

And around all these people, I feel more alone than I ever have before.


	3. Chapter 3: A Parade

I'm rushed out of the train station and into the center of the Capitol. I squint from the bright light, and once my eyes adjust I'm taken aback. The Capitol has the biggest buildings I've ever seen. Every building is bigger than the new town hall back in Seven, named the Justice Building.

Large men in white suits, take me by the arms, and virtually drag me into a building bigger than the other ones. Their suits are similar to the peacekeepers, except nicer.

Everything in the Capitol is nicer.

The nicely dressed guards march me to the registration desk where a beautiful woman greets me, and then takes me to a sliding silver door. She steps in, and tells me to follow her. I get in the box, and the silver doors slide close. The box starts to move upwards. The lady seems unworried about this, so I keep my cool. After a few moments, the lady smiles at me.

"It's called an elevator. It moves vertically, like stairs, sort of."

I manage a smile, though the sweat that is forming at my forehead gives away that I don't feel like smiling.

When the door slides open, I have to squint because it is so blindingly white. The beautiful lady grabs me by the arm, and takes me to a room with a glass door and a sterile bed. The lady leaves, and I sit on the bed.

My curiosity about the glass door gets the best of me. I open the door, and find a small tiled floor with white slippery walls. There is a circular object on the wall opposite me, and a handle a few feet below the circular object. I try to push the handle, then pull. Neither works. I then turn it to the left, and yelp. Boiling water pours down my shoulders like rain. I get myself together, and turn the handle back to the right, and the water disappears as fast as it came on.

I exit the small, slippery, and now wet room to find a group of three small framed short women giggling at me.

"How was your shower, darling?"

I look at the women, and realize the rain was something called a shower.

"Um... fine, thanks."

"Wonderful!"

"Did District 3 make this? Because it's incredible."

The women look at each other, then laugh.

"No," they say in unison. "this has been around longer than District 3."

I flush, and don't say anything back. The three women introduce themselves as Ignatia, Yasminne, and Califer. They're dumb looking, if you ask me. Ignatia has flowing eyebrows that curl around to the corners of her eyes. Yasminne has tiger print on half of her face and is constantly bragging about it. Califer yells loudly all the time and very long eyelashes and finger nails.

I begin to wonder why they are there, when they tell me to sit down. There is so little force in them that I barely hear them. I sit down, just in case they meant it. The giggle, and strip off all of my clothes. I scream at them to stop, but they don't listen.

"This is our job, darling." Ignatia explains. "We have to get you ready for Veridie to see you."

"Who's Veridie?" I ask.

"You'll love her. She's got great ideas for your costume." Yasminne adds.

"Costume?" I ask.

"Yes, dear, you have to look nice for the Capitol, dear. The tribute parade is tonight."

I imagine twenty four starving, sick children dressed in costumes, walking through the city square of the Capitol, people cheering them on, and I can't imagine it. The Capitol is too vain to worship unattractive kids. No one will show up to this so called parade.

I yell when they begin to rip all of the hair off of my body.

"Come on, darling, everyone in the Capitol is waxed." Ignatia tells me.

"But I'm not from the Capitol." I say.

They stare at me in unison, as if I'd grown a second head. Then another rip, and the stinging breaks the silence.

When they are done, my skin is raw and tingly.

I sit naked and cold on a bed, when a woman with green hair and a pink dress comes in.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, darling. My name is Veridie, and I am going to make you a bright as a star." Veridie say. She wears skin tight leggings and a sweatshirt. It looks nothing like anything I have ever seen. Veridie circles me for a moment, jabbing at my imperfections, and finally stands back.

"You aren't ugly, but you're not attractive." She pauses. "And I can work with that." She says. Immediately after, she begins to shove a costume over my head. It is stiff, but fits. She applies my makeup, which makes me blush. Dad once told me that boys who wear makeup are gay. And I'm not gay. She laughs.

"You must thinks it to be silly to wear makeup." I nod. "If you think about it, every tribute boy will be wearing it, and it could be key to your survival." She winks and leaves the room, keeping me wondering what the wink was for. The prep team comes back in, and finishing me for the


End file.
